Lost Girls of Leflin
by Vienna1995
Summary: Ailish doesn't know what she is doing in Ketterdam. After she discovers that King Nikolai tricked her into coming with lies of diplomatic duties, she's furious. But can a mission make it worthwhile? Fionn just wants to go home. When the Bastard of the Barrel comes to Fionn with an offer to end his indenture, he's conflicted. Is trading in his debt for just one job worth the risk?
1. Prologue

Late Spring: Leflin

It was the last night of term and Zara Neil was not about to leave her friends without one last hurrah. After tonight Zara was set to begin the long journey to the barely inhabited port city on the north east coast of The Isle, and the thought was nearly too much to bare. In the city, Zara was surrounded by activity and people and _life. _There was nothing waiting for her in Ruaig, nothing good anyway. Just a gran who didn't understand why she would spend so much of the money her parents left for her on university when there were perfectly good men to marry right in town. Zara had been dreading it all term, which did nothing to stop the day from coming. Tomorrow Zara's fate was sealed, but tonight was her own.

However, convincing her friends to go out had been slightly harder than Zara had anticipated. The request, nay demand, had been met with a chorus of apprehension and fear. It turned out that her friends were concerned by the growing smattering of posters detailing missing girls hung all around the university. What they didn't realize was that Zara was stronger than whatever force had been plucking girls from Leflin. Though mostly untrained, Zara was a powerful Grisha Squaller capable to taking down any threat that might come their way. After a bit of Zara's other talent for persuasion, the group of giggling girls dressed in their finest gowns set off for a night they wouldn't soon forget.

That is how Zara ended up here, dancing to a band of flutes and fiddles in the best pub in Leflin, _Trioblaid_. There were pubs in her hometown of Ruaig of course, but nothing like _Trioblaid. _Lavishly decorated with red lacquer walls and deep wooden bars, _Trioblaid _made Zara feel expensive and a far cry from the orphan of a simple sailor. It also didn't hurt that the pub was filled to the brim with handsome men with much more to offer than those back home.

In the dimming candlelight Zara spotted what might have been the most handsome man in the pub leaning casually against the bar. With a jolt of excitement Zara realized he was staring right at her. His features were all defined edges wrapped tightly in smooth alabaster skin. Zara thought his cheekbones were sharp enough to cut through glass, and his deep set eyes could pierce her very soul. As she made her way closer to him with a boldness that only came from undeniable beauty, Zara noticed the well tailored charcoal suit he had draped over his tall thin figure. Without hesitation Zara pushed her way through dancing bodies until she was right in front of him.

"Care to buy me a drink?" Zara said with a sultry smirk.

With a deep satisfaction she watched the man's eyes trail across her face, down to her heeled feet and back up again. Seemingly pleased with what he saw, the man turned to wave over the bartender. Up close Zara took in the golden color of his slicked back hair and the grace of his movements. She paid no mind to the drink being made for her behind the bar, nor to the little white pill dissolving in the clear liquid.

"One sparkling gin with a strawberry on the rim," The man said in a smooth voice when the drink was set in front of her, "Is that correct?"

"Yes, how did you know?" Zara asked, amazed that he had guessed her order exactly.

"I confess I may have seen you here before," The man said with a sheepish smile playing on his lips, "Though I was never brave enough to approach you myself. How does it taste?"

Zara took a generous sip of the liquid, tasting no hint of the drug it was laced with. Her attention was solely focused on the angelic man in front of her. After a few more sips Zara began telling the man of her upcoming journey, the loving, albeit judgemental, gran waiting for her and a keen desire to see more of the world. The man listening intently, pretending this was all news to him. Pretending like he hadn't hand picked this girl who was so far from home for a reason.

It took no time at all for the drug to kick into effect. Zara was soon swaying a bit on her feet, grabbing onto the bar for support. As the world began to spin around her, Zara looked out into the crowd trying to spot her friends. With blurry vision she saw they were preoccupied with men of their own and dancing with a joyful ignorance. In an attempt to steady herself Zara pushed up on the bar, only to knock her glass over with a shatter.

"Are you okay?" The man asked with a mask of concern, "Here, allow me. Let's go get some fresh air."

At this point the room was spinning uncontrollably, and Zara found it hard to keep her eyes open. The once beautiful music she had been dancing to faded away until it sounded like she was underwater listening to it. The feel of the man's arms gripping Zara's shoulders as he led her further away from the bar was the last thing she remembered before blacking out.

...

This first thing Zara noticed when she came to was the thick scent of beer. Zara couldn't see, but felt nothing directly covering her eyes. She opened her mouth to call out, but soon realized she had tape over her lips. Her body was contorted with her knees pressed tight against her chest. Zara felt damp wood pressing against her all the way from her back and sides to the top of her head. Spiked ropes bound her arms and with a panic Zara realized what this meant.

Still in disbelief and panic Zara tried to raise her hand and summon wind. With her arms bound Zara was unable to even conjure up the faintest breeze. The only sound Zara could hear was the pounding of her racing heart and she tried over and over again to grasp even the smallest bit of her powers. It was a fruitless exertion of energy.

Unbeknownst to Zara, the world outside had sprung into life with the new day. Miles away the train she booked to take her north was about to leave. Zara's gran was cleaning the spare room in preparation for her return, and telling anyone who would listen that her little grandbaby was on her way home to the summer. Even further away though, in the rough streets of Ketterdam, a plan was being set in motion to put an end to the kidnapping of Leflin girls. If only Zara had the time...


	2. Chapter 1

Late Summer: Ketterdam

The streets of Ketterdam were finally silent. Residents of the Government District had tucked in for the night, seeking shelter from thick fog blanketing the streets. A clear night sky eliminated the rooftops of embassy buildings and gave the fog ghostly glow. Miles away from the professional centres of the city, the East and West Staves of the Barrel were just waking up.

Ailish O'Callaghan hated Ketterdam. She was looking out at the window of the Ravkan Embassy wondering how an entire city could possibly smell so bad. The mixture of fish and piss perfuming the air made her almost miss the ship that she had travelled here on. That ship, a large military vessel, smelled much the same but at least there was the open air of the sea to blow it away. Here the fog held both odour and humidity in a tight embrace that the weak Kerch wind couldn't break up.

One day in this city was more than enough for Ailish. If she closed her eyes she could imagine she was back home in the comfort of the Little Palace. Nestled into the capital city of Os Alta, the Little Palace was home to the Second Army of Ravka. Ailish had lived in luxury and comfort there for the last seven years, but it had made her soft. Regardless of what training she was put through during the day, each night she was greeted by silk sheets and a mountain of feather pillows. The bed provided to her in the Ravkan Embassy was a rickety replacement. The entire Embassy, with its sterile white walls, lazily constructed exterior and muggy rooms, was cheap knock off compared to the luxury of Little Palace.

It had been five years since Ailish had left the comfort of the Little Palace. Her homesickness for Ravka stung in more ways than one. Ailish hadn't always lived there, and mixed with a longing for Os Alta was a guilt for her true home. Tonight, as Ailish was staring out the window at Ketterdam, she let her mind wander to where she was raised. For a moment, and only a moment, thoughts of deep green grass, cotton candy colored sheep and meat pies filled Ailish's mind. It took no time at all for the memories to become too painful though, and Ailish pushed them away.

A faint knock on the door broke Ailish's focus from the open window she had been glaring out of. Her eyes narrowed at the door, unsure of who could be disturbing her at this time. The knock came again, this time with more urgency. Ailish hesitated, but ultimately decided to get off the window seat she had been perched on and go open the door.

"Good, you're awake," Genya Safin said while pushing her way into the room, "and before you try asking me, I do not know any specifics as to why I am here. I was just given orders to help clean you up a bit."

Ailish wearily eyed the auburn haired girl as she began buzzing around the room. Genya Safin, a 26 year old Grisha tailor and member of the Grisha Triumvirate, was a force to be reckoned with. Tonight she looked even more powerful than usual due to the deep glow radiating off of her scarred skin, indicating that she had been using her powers already.

In a swift movement Genya set a black, silky dress down on the bed and her kit down on the bedside table. Ailish felt her features pinch in confusion and Genya began rummaging through the glass vials filled with different dyes, powders and the clear gels of human tissues that were used to help her alter someone's appearance. Before Ailish could question it, Genya turned around with an impatient look, her single amber eye narrowing to a slit.

"Make this easier for both of us and sit down please," Genya said, gesturing to the bed.

Wordlessly, Ailish followed orders and soon Genya's gently scarred hands began poking and prodding at her face and hair. With a flick of the wrist Ailish felt the ribbon that had been holding her bush of curly red hair drop to the floor. Ringlets fell down her shoulders and back like fire. Genya reached into her kit and pulled out a deep red dye, placing one finger in the dye and the other on Ailish's pale lips. With the ease of a master Genya skilfully leeched the colour from the dye until it was clear as water and Ailish's lips were stained crimson. Her hands lightly pressed against the deep rings under Ailish's eyes, gently reducing the swelling and dark appearance. All of this happened so fast that in a matter of minutes Genya was stood in front of her with an even bright glowing brighter and a wide grin.

"Genya, what is all this?" Ailish asked before glancing into a nearby mirror. Her complexion smooth with a light dusting of bright freckles across her rosy cheeks. A crimson stain was bright on her lips, and curls of bright hair fell perfectly despite weeks of neglect. Ailish didn't look anything short of perfect, which did not match how exhausted she felt after weeks at sea unable to fully use her powers.

"I told you, I have no idea," Genya said, giving the deeply scarred skin of her cheeks a light rub. The eye not covered with a silk patch began to droop in time with a yawn.

"Then who ordered you to come in here and tailor me? I was about to go to sleep." Ailish said, peering at the dress still laying on her bed.

"The same man who ordered me to make sure you put this on," Genya said reaching towards to black gown and holding it out in front of Ailish's worried face, "our great King Nikolai."

"Why would he...?" Ailish couldn't finish the sentence, cut off as her hands gripped tightly to the collar of her royal blue kefta. The smooth silk beneath her fingertips was so soothing that the thought of leaving the embassy in anything else left Ailish feeling naked. Genya once again spared Ailish a pitying look, but shook the dress in her hand with an unwavering urgency.

"I have no idea, but whatever it is he has planned for you both it cannot be done with you wearing a kefta. It is not safe on the streets with you advertising your abilities like that." Genya said_, "_Now let me help you put this on so you are not late."

"Alright, alright," Ailish said, willing her hands to move towards the buttons at the base of her ribs.

Practiced fingers unclasped buttons, released the clasps at her cuffs and removed layers of silk until Ailish was left with just a thin slip covering her curved frame. Genya guided the dress gently onto Ailish's pale frame, and then not so gently tightened the corseted top. The breath Ailish had been holding close since Genya arrived was thrust out of her, and the now tight corset left little room for it to come back in. Gently puffed sleeves fell over Ailish's deeply freckled arms upper arms, but tightened along her forearms and wrists. The inky fabric shushed along the wooden floor like a pool of dark water. Ailish worried the long fabric would trip her. That was until Genya handed her a pair of crimson heels tall enough to make up for Ailish's lack of height.

"You look beautiful," Genya said with a small, appreciating smile that looked more meant for her tailoring skills than Ailish's natural beauty. Ailish glanced at the mirror and watched as a smile formed on her red lips as well.

"Thank you," Ailish responded with a small voice, unable to look away from her reflection. Though the dress was a far cry from the kefta AIlish had grown to love, she could appreciate the way it loving cradled her feminine curves in an unfamiliar but welcome way. More so Ailish could appreciate that the silky fabric felt comfortable and familiar, even if there was less of it.

"Our king is waiting to escort you on the steps to the embassy. Try not to keep him waiting." Genya said, gathering her things in a hurry.

"Wait, aren't you coming? What about Zoya?" Ailish asked, panicked at the thought of being on the street of Ketterdam without their protection.

"We are both going to sleep," Genya said, giving the deeply scarred skin of her cheeks a light rub. The eye not covered with a silk patch began to droop in time with a yawn. "Or at least we are going to try to sleep in these sad excuses for beds."

In a flash as quick as she came, Genya was gone. Ailish watched her hurry down the hall to her room with a pang of envy nearly as deep as her exhaustion. With an audible sign, Ailish stalked out of her room and down the hall of the Embassy. Suddenly the rickety bed didn't seem so bad in comparison to whatever Nikolai had in mind for them tonight. While riding a lift down to the ground floor, Ailish began to wonder if this trip was entirely for diplomatic purposes. When Ailish stepped out of the building and spotted a man in a crimson suit and ginger hair, her suspicions were confirmed.

King Nikolai Lantsov was a man of two faces. His everyday face a gorgeous compilation of sharp edges, clear hazel eyes and gentle golden hair. This face ruled Ravka, skillfully negotiated with foreign powers and made women worldwide swoon. The face of his alias, Sturmhond, was a mashup of muddy green eyes, rusty red hair and a comically crooked nose. This face had been all but retired when Nikolai traded his life as a privateer for the throne, but it was Sturmhond's face that Ailish saw beaming at her in the moonlight.

"Well don't you look ravishing Ailish," Nikolai said with a wink, "Genya really is masterful I must say."

Ailish is stunned to silence for the second time that night. The air surrounding them was thick with fog, and the light breeze of a late summer night nipped at her exposed skin. Ailish spared longing a thought to the coat laying in the room, thinking maybe it would be worth going back for, but Nikolai turned on his heel and began walking down the empty streets. Ailish followed, her heels tapping against the cobblestones.

"Nika- I mean Stumhond," Ailish, "What about your guard, I mean..."

"Don't you worry Ailish," Nikolai said with a glance over his shoulder, "I'm never without protection."

Ailish turned her head and saw a familiar broad figure trailing with fabricated nonchalance. Even from a good distance ahead and in low light, Ailish immediately recognized the man to be Tolya Yul-Bataar. A talented Heartreander and member of King Nikolai's personal guard, Tolya was built like a tree and just as strong. Ailish felt herself release a breath she hadn't realized she was holding at the sight of him, comforted by his presence. If anyone made a move to harm the King, Toyla would stop their heart before they got the chance. Though she wondered what the combination of Tolya's position inconspicuously behind them and Nikolai's disguise meant for the night ahead of her.

"Do you know what I love the most about Ketterdam?" Nikolai asked when Ailish turned back to look at him.

"There's something to love about Ketterdam?" Ailish responded, looking around the damp, fishy streets.

"Ha!" Nikolai laughed a bit too generously, "I think you will find there is something to love about everywhere if you look hard enough Ailish. But no, what I love the most is all of the canals. It makes getting around so much easier, and I'm afraid we have a bit of a trek ahead of us."

As if on cue they reached the edge of the canal where a lone rowboat is resting in the water. A broad shouldered man dressed in all black is sitting in the boat. When they approached he stood and reached out his arms to help Ailish into the dainty vessel. Nikolai slid next to her, and the man began rowing them down the bank.

"This is Specht," Nikolai stated, "He is here to assist with our transportation, courtesy of our host."

"The Merchant Council?" Ailish asked, thinking of the reason she was told they journeyed to Ketterdam in the first place. A curt laugh from Specht dismisses that idea.

"No," Nikolai said, "Specht is employed by someone of a rougher variety. Wouldn't you agree Specht?"

"I'd rather spend the rest of my days rotting in the cells of Hellgate than work for a Merch." Specht responded with a voice that was low and rough.

"I've heard Hellgate is rather, well hellish, so that's quite a statement. I applaud your commitment to the cause Specht." Nikolai responded amicably.

The two of them continued their exchange of pleasant, if not confusing, chatter, while Ailish looked out at the city surrounding her. The streets had been silent when they first left, but as they drifted further down the canal it was as if the city was coming alive. It started out as a low hum; the buzz of a group of voices too far away to really hear. However, through each curve and bend of the canal, the sound grew louder and louder. By the time the boat came to a stop at the edge of the bank, the city had erupted into pure chaos.

"Welcome to The Barrel," Specht said while tying the boat to the edge, "I'll be here when you need me to take you back."

Nikolai thanked Specht before jumping out of the boat. He then reached down to help Ailish up, and she once again felt foolish in the impractical heels. When they were both on solid ground again, Ailish could feel a low vibration under here feet.

The Barrel, as it turned out, was where citizens and tourists alike come to wreak havoc in the night. It was unlike anything Ailish had seen before. Crowds dressed in elaborate costumes filled the cobblestone streets. People were done up in bright orange suits, lacy blue dresses and metallic green gowns. Almost no one walked the streets without something covering their face. Ailish's eyes darted back and forth at masks with beaks, horns and crowns.

"Oh I almost forgot," Nikolai said, pulling a crimson mask made of feathers out of his coat pocket, "Put that on."

Ailish watched as he puts on his own black feathered mask before following suit. Her senses were suddenly in overload. Tips of red feathers blurred Ailish's vision, her ears didn't know whether to settle on the laughter, screams or hisses coming from the crowd and her nose had found a scent more potent than fish-alcohol. Ailish put all of her focus into keeping pace with Nikolai as he navigated the busy streets with ease. She tried to stay calm, but her training in the second army hadn't prepared her for this sort of situation. It left her with a familiar panic that always crept up when in a crowd. Her only comfort was the knowledge that somewhere in the crowd Toyla had to be watching, ready to intervene if needed.

After walking past a number of questionable looking establishments, Nikolai stopped in front of a building with a wave of people streaming in and out. Ailish read a sign with "The Crow Club" written in crimson print against the black exterior walls. Lavish jet black columns extended out from the entrance and acted as support for drunken patrons. A crow statue stretched out its silver wings, engulfing the crowds in its grasp. Ailish hesitated slightly as Nikolai confidently marched up the steps to the entrance.

"Ailish," He said, walking back down to meet her, "The Second Army didn't spend years training you for you to lose your nerve at a simple gambling parlour. You could single handily kill every person in this place in you wanted to. I'd rather you wouldn't because that would be one hell of a mess to clean up, but you could. Now let's get going, our host is waiting."

"What are we doing here?" Ailish finally asked, thinking she should have asked well before this moment.

"Follow me and find out," He replied, reaching out a hand to her.

Ailish grabs onto it and together they walk up the stairs and through the doors into The Crow Club. The interior of the gambling hall was extravagant, and way over the top compared to the what Ailish was used to. The walls are a thick, inky black colour and are bare of any windows. Chandeliers with long stemmed candles eliminated round tables covered in crimson cloth. Lines of people stood waiting for their chance to roll some dice, spin a wheel or bet on a hand of cards. Ailish was not entirely impressed.

Nikolai held onto her hand as they pushed through the crowds. Together they dodged tipsy giggling women, belligerent masked men yelling that the game is rigged, and waiters carrying trays of colourful liquids. Once they reached the back of the club a woman wearing a long dress that pushed her breasts to impressive heights greeted them. Her icy blonde hair was pulled tight against her head and her dark eyes are narrowed.

"You're late," She said in Kerch, turning on her heel and opening the red door behind her.

Ailish watched Nikolai eagerly follow the women, and begrudgingly walked through the door. The noise from the club silenced when the door slammed shut. Ailish once again could hear the tapping of her heels against the black and red tile floors, a sound that brought little comfort. If they suddenly needed to escape, the only known exit would be back the way they came and Ailish had not spotted Toyla enter the club. Nikolai seems unconcerned, and before he could try and take up charming conversation with their escort, she stopped at a door covered by a thick, velvet curtain.

"He's right through there," She said, then pulled the curtain open.

The first thing Ailish noticed when she entered the room was the black lacquer walls that were as dark as a nightmare. The room was smaller than she imagined and furnished simply with a black table and a few velvet couches. Sat in one is a man who must be somewhere in his early 20's. He looked like an ink stain against the crimson couch with dark hair and eyes. A black, well fitted suit covered almost every inch of his pale skin and a cane carved with a silver crows head leaned against his leg. The man's gloved hands were lazily shuffling a stack of cards as they entered, but he placed them on the table as his attention reached Ailish.

"Ailish, say hello Kaz Brekker," Nikolai said in Kerch while pulling the mask off his face, "He's The Bastard of The Barrel, and the reason you are in Ketterdam."


	3. Chapter 2

A few minutes into first meeting The Bastard of Barrel, Ailish could see how he got the name. Each word Kaz spoke sounded like sandpaper and hung in the air like smoke. His dark eyes were unnerving. They stared at her with a look of knowing too much. Kaz didn't seem to care for any of the usual pleasantries Ailish came to expect from a meeting. Though, to be fair, Ailish had never had a meeting in the back room of a gambling hall.

"Your king here tells me you were captured by slavers in the Wandering Isle," Kaz said with a tone much too casual considering the subject. Ailish shot Nikolai a look that was equal parts offended and shocked. Not only had he revealed one of his most valuable secrets to this bastard, but he had shared hers as well.

"Kaz helped us out a few years back with a bit of a crisis," Nikolai answered the unasked question in hushed Ravkan, "He is privy to some of the crown's secrets as a result."

"He has no right to my secrets," Ailish responded back in Kerch so that Kaz could hear. Her fists gripped the feather mask at her lap, choking it.

"The right to someone's secrets can be bought, and I happen to know your king's price."

"And what might that be?" Ailish snapped, glaring at her king.

"Woah, I didn't sell anyone's secrets," Nikolai said putting his hands up, "Play nice Kaz, you didn't ask us here so you could patronize her."

"No, I did not," Kaz admitted, though if there was any shame for his behaviour it was lost on Ailish, "I asked you here because I have a job for you to do."

"I don't work for you," Ailish said curtly.

Ailish could feel her anger rising, humming deep in her body. When Nikolai had first asked her if she would accompany him on his trip to Ketterdam she had been confused. Her role in the Second Army was that of a warrior, not a diplomat. However Ailish was not going to deny an official request from the crown, so she agreed. Sitting here deep in the black and red belly of Ketterdam finest gambling parlour and dressed up like some kind of doll, Ailish wondered if she had misplaced her faith in Nikolai. Ailish wondered if she misplaced her faith in Ravka altogether. The memory of rolling green fields, gentle rainfall and a roaring seaside tugged at her mind as it often did when she needed comfort.

"I don't have plans on hiring you myself. I have no need for your services personally," Kaz said. The once tight curls around Ailish's head began to unwind with a light static.

"Then what the hell am I doing here?" Ailish asked Nikolai, dismissing Kaz altogether.

"Kaz, I would get to the point before Ailish here loses her temper," Nikolai said, taking a sip of the bitter wine that had been served to the group. Ailish hadn't gone back for a second sip, but her king seemed to be enjoying it.

"I'm getting there, believe me. But Ailish why don't you tell me more about when you got captured by slavers," Kaz said, leaning back casually on the couch, "I've heard some pretty remarkable rumours that I would like cleared up."

Static seemed to fill the room, lifting hair and stray fabric with an invisible tug. The feather mask in Ailish's hands started to smoke as she grasped it tighter. Kaz watched Ailish with an amused smile and entirely unconcerned expression. Next to her, Nikolai's eyes widen in a slightly, but the rest of his expression unreadable behind the glass. He pulled the drink away from his lips to intervene, but Kaz beat him to it.

"I've heard that you were captured about five years ago, on the night of a particularly historical event in Ravka. It was also the night of pretty horrific storm off the coast of the Wandering Isle."

Ailish remembered this night well. She remembered the storm throwing the slavers ship around like a toy. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel the wind pounded against, threatening to send her overboard. Ailish could feel the arms of drunken crew member dragging her to the captain's quarters on the slick deck of the soaked ship. This memory, like the memory of her home, was not welcome. Ailish shoved it from her mind, but fury buzzed deep within her.

"Do you feel that? That anger? I can see it on you," Kaz said, unfazed by the light sizzling sound around them, "That anger isn't for me, it's for the men who tore you from your family and tried to make you a slave."

"I'd wager a bet that some of the anger is directed at you Brekker," Nikolai muttered.

"Well if it is, it's misplaced." Kaz said, turning his dark eyes on Ailish "I'm not the man that did this to you. I'm the man that is giving you a chance to take those men down."

The mood of the room shifted. This wasn't what Ailish was expecting he would say, and shock overtook her anger. The static was sucked out of the air and her hands loosened a bit in her lap. Kaz gave a wicked smile, knowing he had her attention now.

"Tomorrow morning Inej Ghafa will be in the city, does that name mean anything to you?" Kaz asked, but after Ailish shakes her head, he continued, "What about The Wraith."

At that Ailish took in a sharp breath. Of course she had heard of The Wraith. Her reputation of striking down slave ships with the swiftness and precision of blade had reached all the way through the walls of the Little Palace. Ailish still remembered when she first learned of The Wraith through gossip amongst her peers, and the way it made her heart swell with envy.

"You know The Wraith?" Ailish asked and Kaz answered with a laugh.

"I do," Kaz said with what looked like the groundwork to a genuine smile, "And she's looking for a crew to take down the slave ring in Leflin. Isn't that where you were picked up all those years ago?"

"It's why I brought you here," Nikolai interjected, switching back to a hushed Ravkan, "I got word that Inej was in need of some help, and I thought it would be a perfect mission for you."

Ailish flushed. It was all a bit too much for her at once. Ailish still felt the lingering pull of anger towards Nikolai, but it was tainted by a gratefulness she couldn't deny. This may have all been a rouse, but Nikolai had orchestrated it for her benefit. Despite her feelings on the way this job had been presented to her, the real question was whether or not she should take it.

"Why don't you take the night to think it over," Kaz said, flicking a silver, crow stamped coin into Ailish's lap, "Take that to the bar for a few free drinks. But I have a feeling by tomorrow you will be ready to sign up for this mission."

"Wait," Nikolai said before Ailish could move, "If Inej isn't even in Ketterdam yet, why did you ask us to meet you? And in the Crow Club of all places?"

"I've told a few..._investors_ that the Kaelish were very interested in what I was offering. Now I've got a full house of witnesses that saw two red heads go into my private gambling room for quite some time. Do me a favour and try not to speak to anyone tonight with that Ravkan accent." Kaz replies. He leaned back, grabs the cards off the table and started shuffling them again in his gloved hands.

"Ailish, go get that drink," Nikolai said, "Brekker and I have a bit more to discuss."

...

The first thing Fionn Healy noticed about her was a wild mane of red curly hair tumbling down her shoulders. His eyes followed her hair as it pushes through the crowds of costume clad patrons, before it disappeared to the back of the club. That hair hit Fionn with such a powerful blow of nostalgia that he nearly spilled the cocktail he had just made all over an already angry customer.

"Hey, watch it," The balding man said before throwing a few _kruge_ on the bar. The man stalked off to go try his luck at another one of the tables, but based on the lack of tip, Fionn imagined he didn't have much more to give. Either that or he was one hell of a cheap bastard.

Fionn's experience as a bartender at the Crow Club has taught him that there's three kinds of customers in a place like this. The first, and preferred kind, was someone with a massive ego and a loose grip on their coin purse. They usually came in with a crowd of people, and showed off with a mixture of lavish and nearly comical clothing, expensive drink orders and by tipping everyone handsomely. Going out for a night in The Barrel was a performance for them. On this night they get to show off whatever money they had managed to stow away for the very event.

The second kind were the tourists. Whether first timers or seasoned visitors they were all easy to spot. They came dressed in Komedie Brute costumes, clad as the black and red masked Mister Crimson or the veiled Lost Bride. The women could be detected by a symphony of giggles and drunken flirts. They tipped modestly, trying to be responsible with the sum of cash they brought with them to Ketterdam. What they lacked in cash tips they made up for with invitations back to their hotels for the night, which Fionn never felt too inclined to accept. The men, depending on their luck that night, could be decent tippers. However most of their cash was swindled at the tables and that left Fionn with empty handed.

The final, and least generous kind, were the regulars. These could either be a wealthy resident or a deeply unwealthy gambling addict. Either way they rarely came to the bar at all. The elite of Ketterdam preferred the comfort of the private gambling rooms. They spent all night being personally served by waiters that they were too frugal to tip. The heavy gamblers, however, didn't often have the extra cash to spend on drink. If they did they weren't going to offer much more than a curt thank you for their service.

Tonight the crowds had been filled with more of the third kind than Fionn would have hoped. There had been a steady stream of tourists, but not nearly enough to make up for the crowd of regulars. Every private room had been booked and the rest of the hall was occupied by a number of unlucky gamblers. Fionn had only managed to snag a few tips because he was manning the bar alone tonight, but it hardly seemed worth the effort. If Fionn wasn't paid a decent wage tonight would be a complete loss-one that he couldn't afford.

Fionn didn't exactly love his job at The Crow Club. In fact, he hated it. Fionn worked five nights a week serving drinks to the worst Ketterdam had to offer. During the day he slept in his dank apartment and dreamt that he was back home in the lush green paradise of the Wandering Isle. Sometimes he imagined leaving Ketterdam without a trace, but he knew Kaz Brekker wasn't going to let that happen. Fionn was deep in debt with Dirty Hands, and those hands had a grip so tight on the shipping harbours that there wasn't a chance he could slip through. No, Fionn wasn't going to get the chance to leave this city anytime soon.

The night was finally winding down and only a few stragglers sat at the tables betting away the last of their _kruge_. Fionn looked across the hall to see Anika give him a tight nod and sighed in relief. Feeling grateful that this night has come to an end, Fionn reached over to ring the bell and signal last call. His hand was mid-air when that damn red hair came back into view.

With the much thinner crowd Fionn was able to see that the hair belonged to a girl that didn't look much older than him. She had to be somewhere in her late teens at the most. Her curvy figure was hugged tight by a silky black dress, making her blend in nicely in the red and black gambling den. Fionn watched as she looked over the club with a sour expression before her eyes met him.

Embarrassed by his stare, Fionn busied himself again with cleaning up the bar. He grabbed a spare rag and started to hastily wipe down the row of liquor bottles. However, last call was deliberately delayed in an effort to will her over to order a drink. Fionn tried to hide his grin when his plan actually worked.

"Please tell me I can still order something." He heard a soft voice say in an accent that sounded like home, "I need a drink."

Fionn turned away from the bottles to see her leaning a pair of pale elbows up against the bar. Trying not to be obvious about it, Fionn gave the girl a quick once over. A light Kaelish twang of her voice proved his theory that the red hair wasn't some Grisha trick, and neither were the splatter of freckles on her cheeks.

"What can I get you?" Fionn responded with a thicker accent. The girl's stormy grey eyes widen slightly at the sound.

"Is that a Kaelish accent I hear?" She said, in Kaelish, a grin blooming on her face like a deep red rose.

"Aye," Fionn responded with a matching grin, unaware that he was playing right into Kaz's hands.


	4. Chapter 3

The Crow Club had a certain beauty when it wasn't crowded with costumed patrons. After everyone had either run out of money to bet or been dragged out by security, the club finally had a chance to breathe. A romantic red hue from the candles shone on empty card tables, abandoned glasses, and trash littering along the floor. These calm moments late in the night made the most notorious establishment in the Barrell seem almost peaceful.

Fionn normally spent these moments hastily cleaning up the bar and attempting to get back home so he could get a few hours of sleep before the first beams of daylight flickered against Ketterdam's skyline. Tonight he felt no such rush. Tonight he was willing to stay in The Crow Club as long as he could. That was, if it meant he could keep talking to her.

"Ailish, by the way," She said after taking another sip from her half full pint.

They had been speaking for a little under an hour, and Fionn was embarrassed that he never thought to ask for her name. He had been too busy telling her at length about the farm he grew up in on the countryside and the shop in The Government District that sold tradition Kaelish food. In turn, Fionn listened as Ailish described the seaside town she was from, how she longed for the clean, salty air and how she seemed to already despise Ketterdam as much as he did after just a day.

"Fionn," he responded, fingers drumming against the counter, "What brings you to Ketterdam anyway?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Ailish said as her eyes, like two pieces of charcoal, met his searching as if he had the answer. Fionn felt suddenly very seen when she asked, "Do you miss home?"

_Home. _Ailish hadn't asked if he missed The Isle or the farm, she asked if he missed _hom__e._ The question struck Fionn in a way he had not anticipated, and he found himself breaking eye contact to stare at the counter.

"Sometimes," Fionn said, eyes still drifting along the countertop, "But there are small pockets of home here."

"There are?" Ailish asked, "Where?"

Fionn glanced up to see Ailish brimming with genuine curiosity, and maybe a bit of eagerness. It hadn't occurred to him that she might be as homesick as he was, after all Fionn pegged her for a tourist. Looking at her now, Fionn wondered if Ailish had been away from The Isle for longer than he originally guessed.

"There's a Kaelish style pub in The Lid," Fionn said, leaning over the counter, "Open late and they have live music most nights. Cheap enough pints as well."

"Are they open now?" Ailish asked

"I figure so, aye," Fionn said, and then with a stroke of unfamiliar and spontaneous bravery he added, "I could show you if you want. Just as soon as I'm off I mean."

"That sounds…" Ailish started to say, but drifted off as she suddenly glanced over her shoulder.

Fionn's heart sunk when he saw a man in a crimson suit wave Ailish over. Without saying a word, she walked over to him. Feeling foolish, Fionn finished the remainder of his cleaning. A girl like that obviously didn't come here alone. Whatever connection Fionn thought they had was just wishful thinking.

A loud voice rung out in language Fionn didn't recognize. He peered back over to see Ailish arguing with the man in red. However, from this distance it looked like Ailish was the only one doing the arguing, as the fox-faced man was responding with a calm, and almost humoured, expression.

Employees of the Crow Club were used to fights breaking out at the end of the night, so no one else so much as batted an eye. Fionn tried his best to ignore it and keep working, but curiosity kept an ear to the action. If only he spoke whatever language she was shouting in.

Soon the arguing was over though, and the faint tapping of heels on tile broke Fionn's concentration on the bar till. He glanced over to see that a flushed Ailish was once again leaning against the bar. When Fionn looked to the back of the club, he saw the man in red had left.

"What time do you get off?" Ailish asked, eyes gleaming in the light from the bar.

Fionn, amazed that she was actually taking him up on his offer said, "I can be off in 5."

...

The East Stave was winding down as Fionn led Ailish out of the Crow Club. At just past three bells it was still a good few hours until dawn, but like cockroaches escaping light, citizens and tourists alike wanted to be tucked away from view before it broke. To the uninformed it might appear like the party was coming to an end all across Ketterdam, but no one partied quite like the Kaelish.

They walked in relative silence up the winding Ketterdam streets. Fionn felt grateful that Ailish's attention was focused on thinning crowds and closing clubs and not him. The confidence he had felt back in the Crow Club had dissolved into a nervous bubbling in his gut. It had been one thing to ask her to accompany him to the pub while safely behind the bar, and another thing altogether to actually go there with her.

Fionn tried to keep his attention on the route up past the West Stave to The Lid's home at the harbour, but he couldn't stop looking over at Ailish. While her eyes were trained on a scattering of false golden coins on the cobblestones, his focus was on ripples of inky black silk that covered Ailish's slightly trembling body.

"Are you cold?" Fionn asked, already moving his hands to the collar of his thick black coat, "Did you not bring a jacket?"

"No," Ailish said with another, more pronounced shiver, "I mean no, I didn't bring a jacket with me."

"Here," Fionn said and stopped in his tracks.

Ailish watched from a few steps ahead as he slung the coat off of his shoulders, revealing the Crow Club uniform underneath. Though the uniform was just a simple black button up shirt matched with a crimson waistcoat, it felt more like a target on his back. If it weren't for Kaz's protection, Fionn would have left Ailish shivering rather than show off his allegiance.

Any objection that Ailish might have died on her pursed lips as Fionn held the coat out to her. A gust of wind pushed up the streets, knocking into them as it worked its way to the harbour, as erupting a fit of shivers from Ailish's small frame. Begrudgingly she took the coat, which fit her more like a short dress with too-long sleeves.

"Won't you be cold?" She asked and they resumed walking towards the pub.

"It's not too bad," Fionn lied, "Besides, Kerch weather is much less friendly to newcomers. You need the protection more than me."

"Thank you," Ailish said softly. So softly in fact that Fionn didn't know if it required a response.

They had crossed through the heart of The Barrel without event and entered The West Stave which was still kicking with activity. Long gone were the women dressed in veils and tight corsets though, as the streets were littered with Mister Crimson's, Madman's and Imps. Men with horned and beaked masks made their way to or from the brothels that stayed open later than any of the gambling clubs.

"What is all this anyway?" Ailish asked, gesturing to a group of particular rowdy men, "All the costumes and masks?"

"It's part of the fun, for some of them at least," Fionn said with a hint of disgust, "For other's it's a necessity. They don't want the whole of Ketterdam knowing where they spend their nights."

"Are they so ashamed to be in a gambling parlour?" Ailish asked.

"No, not the parlours…" Fionn trailed off, suddenly embarrassed.

In that moment they had stepped into the light given off by the iridescent Menagerie. Built like a golden cage, the brothel shone brightest on the street. Rows of golden chandeliers hung between thick bars on the first two stories of the building. Standing in each spotlight was a girl dressed in colourful silks, each with bells tied to their otherwise bare anklets. Without even looking Fionn knew there was a for each country in the House of the Exotics. A Suli lynx, a Zemeni fawn and a Kaelish mare.

Fionn cursed under his breath at the sight. In his fit of nerves Fionn had only considered the fastest way to reach the pub, not the buildings they would pass on their way. The West Stave was the pleasure district of Ketterdam, and The Menagerie was its crown jewel. Even just walking passed it Fionn felt uneasy, like the cruel owner Tante Helen was looming over him.

"Sir, I see you already have a mare!" A well-dressed man shouted at Fionn from the entrance, "But I promise you ours is more flexible!"

Despite himself, Fionn glanced up at the red-headed girl perched in between two gold columns on the second story. As if she were a marionette with her strings being pulled, the Kaelish mare lifted her leg up to startling heights. Fionn looked away before the girl's foot could graze the tips of her left ear, embarrassed by the silk skirt that had slipped dangerously askew.

Ignoring the man's offer, Fionn hurried down the street with his head down. When he realized Ailish wasn't next to him any longer, he looked back to see she was staring up at the building in confusion. Ailish's eyes darted wildly from girl to girl, understanding slowly creeping in. The look of Ailish's face was transparently horror, and Fionn felt sick with shame. The tips of Fionn's ears reddened and a string of hasty apologies caught between his dry lips.

"See something you like?" The man then shouted to Ailish, "Don't worry darlin, we cater to _everyone's _needs."

Fionn watched Ailish's body stiffened and her hands rounded to fists underneath the thick sleeves of his coat. Though the coat covered most of her wild red hair, the tops seemed to rise up with every passing moment. The entire road seemed to tense like it was holding in a deep breath. The ends of Fionn's hair began to stand up as a low buzz hummed in the air. In fact everyone on the street suddenly had hair thick with static.

Ignoring this, Fionn reached out to Ailish and lead her away from this place. The moment his hand touched her shoulder he recoiled in a sudden sharp pain. This seemed to break Ailish's focus on The Menagerie and she shifted her almost wild gaze to Fionn. Once again Fionn reached out to Ailish, and this time he was only met with slightly damp fabric of his fog soiled coat.

"We aren't interested!" Fionn shouted, guiding Ailish down the street.

"Suit yourself!" The man laughed and resumed shouting at other passers-by.

"I'm sorry, I should have taken us on another route," Fionn breathlessly said when they were a few streets away, "I wasn't thinking."

"Don't worry about it," Ailish said with a tone that didn't quite relieve him, "Are we far?"

Before he could respond himself the familiar sweet sound of a fiddle danced down the alley to greet them. Loud claps and stomps echoed the cobblestones as they turned the corner. Lit like a sole lantern in a storm, the Kaelish pub shone bright on the street. Through the open door Fionn could see a crowd of Kaelish residents dancing and he couldn't help the smile blooming on his face.

"Never mind," Ailish said with a smile that rivalled Fionn's

"Ailish," Fionn said holding his hand proudly out to the pub, "Welcome to Oileán."


End file.
